


Wings, Flames and Shadow

by duskandstarlight



Series: Habits [2]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:15:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28485213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duskandstarlight/pseuds/duskandstarlight
Summary: An hour later, Cassian threw his cards down with a defeated groan.And Nesta, the she-devil, smirked as she pulled the last of his chips towards her. It was a movement that widened when Cassian snarled softly.Azriel leant forwards from where he was seated, his elbows coming to rest on his broad thighs. He had lost his socks but otherwise remained fully dressed. He was holding his wings a fraction higher than usual, as if he were having to concentrate more than he usually did when they played cards.A muscle ticked in the shadowsinger’s cheek. It was enough to tell Cassian that he was suppressing a smile. And because his brother had not smiled in months, Cassian pulled off his undershorts without hesitation, even as he groused, “Amused, brother?”Again, Azriel’s lips tugged upwards. And then, to Cassian’s surprise, the shadowsinger chuckled with a small shake of his head, “You two need a chaperone up here?”___Azriel, Nesta and Cassian play strip poker in Illyria
Relationships: Nesta Archeron/Azriel/Cassian, Nesta Archeron/Cassian
Series: Habits [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2086584
Comments: 71
Kudos: 204





	Wings, Flames and Shadow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jeakat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeakat/gifts).



> Guys, I don’t really know what to say apart from this is NSFW.
> 
> I know Azriel/Cassian/Nesta is probably quite controversial, but this vision was born whilst I was writing Embers & Light but it was so not canon for that universe so I wrote this as part of the Habits universe instead. You do not have to have read that to understand this one-shot which can standalone!
> 
> This is by far the smuttiest thing I have ever written. I don’t know what else to say but that... 
> 
> Huge thanks to Jeakat for proofing all 13.5k of this fic and for encouraging me to post rather than dying of shame 😂🙈
> 
> Enjoy the 🔥!

**Wings, Flames and Shadows**

It had been five months since Nesta had joined Cassian in Illyria. A five month journey of searing word play and cutting remarks. Of desperate, uncontrollable unions. Of the clash of steel and the blaze of wild, silver fire.

It had only been a matter of weeks before Cassian had hiked Nesta up against a wall and sunk inside of her during one of their fits of fury. Since then, their unions had become a habit. A habit which smoothened over their sharp, barbed words and taunts until, with time, the two of them became civil. Nesta came to him when she wanted him, and after the moral guilt had bled away, Cassian did not deny her. Not that he’d actually ever been able to say no. He had always wanted it too much, that irresistible tether drawing them together until their skin was bare and pleasure scorched through them, licking up their limbs until they were consumed by that shared fire that burned and burned and _burned_.

But recently the habit had been frozen in place. Cassian had been travelling more than he’d have liked, and despite his numerous invitations, Nesta’s eyes had only taken on a hollow quality whenever he asked her to visit the other camps with him.

Even now, the demands on Cassian’s role meant that he was only back in Windhaven a further few nights before he was due to travel to Winter with the Inner Circle on a court visit. And whilst Cassian had spent the duration of his time at the bungalow as close to Nesta as possible, he was already panicking at being away from her for a further three days.

The more they lived together - the more he broke through her walls and she his - the harder it became to leave her. To pretend that he did not care for her so intensely that he was worried one day his heart would break in two from the very ache of it.

And Nesta had become distant again. The knowledge made that ache in Cassian intensify until he was almost frantic with it. Even his housekeeper - an Illyrian widow named Masak - had cornered him in the kitchen to ask whether he could delay some of his trips.

Cassian wasn’t sure what she thought he could do to help. When Nesta retreated into herself, she was almost impossible to reach.

Yet, despite the setbacks, together they had made such progress. They had gone from snarls and frenzied couplings, to the odd moment that could almost be described as tender. When he and Nesta were a tangle of limbs and sighing moans, the two of them made sense. It was only when they stepped onto the thorny path back to reality that Cassian remembered with a sense of dread everything that had happened between them.

And even though Cassian was desperate for an evening alone with Nesta, he invited Azriel to the bungalow. The shadowsinger was still silent and withdrawn since his conversation with Mor, and given that they would be spending the next three days with his closest friends, Cassian saw it as his duty to distract Azriel as best he could.

So Cassian cooked dosas, his heart bursting with pride when Nesta ate seconds, before he retreated into the living room with Azriel and a pack of cards.

Nesta was already curled up in the corner of the U-shaped couch, her long legs tucked up beneath her when they entered. The log burner was roaring silently in the hearth behind the closed iron door, an indication that Nesta was having a trauma-free day. Unsurprisingly, she had a book in her lap, and from the nest of blankets surrounding her, Cassian would wager she had been there for a while.

She remained silent as the two males seated themselves on the two branches of the couch. Cassian took his usual spot in the corner opposite Nesta, whilst Azriel settled onto the far edge of the left side, as if he did not want to trouble Nesta with his presence.

Those storm blue eyes watched Cassian’s hands as he casually shuffled the deck of cards, but he feigned ignorance. Living with Nesta had taught him that it was best that she come to him rather than the other way around. He had learnt that lesson within days. Only once had Cassian broken that unspoken rule he had cast between them since then, and it was undoubtedly the reason why Nesta had been keeping her distance. He was still kicking himself for that moment of weakness, when for the first time since Nesta had arrived in Illyria, Cassian hadn't been able to resist the temptation of slanting his mouth of hers rather than letting her come to him.

“What are you playing.”

Suppressing a triumphant grin, Cassian cocked an eyebrow at the female before him. “Why? Do you intend to play with us?”

Nesta’s eyes remained focussed on her book. They scanned the open page but Cassian knew she was not reading. Her eyes were moving too slowly. Nesta was a fiendishly fast reader.

A flip of the page. “That depends on what you’re playing.”

“If there are three of us, we can play poker,” Azriel said, his voice as smooth and cold as midnight. It was the first time he had spoken since they had sat down, his shadows rendering his face and hands in intermittent darkness as they weaved and whispered around his body.

Shrugging, Nesta bookmarked the place in her book with a ribbon. It was at odds with the dog-eared pages, but Cassian had learnt not to question her reading habits, either, especially when she was this withdrawn. “Fine. I’ll play.”

So Cassian did not tease or taunt, he merely grunted, even as his heart beat that little bit faster. “You won’t be saying that soon. Azriel cheats.”

Azriel’s expression did not change, but Cassian could tell he was refraining from letting loose a long suffering sigh. “Perhaps you are just bad at poker.”

Cassian turned to Nesta. She was watching his hands as they continued to shuffle the deck of cards. It was not often she allowed herself to stare. When she did, it usually ended with them skin-on-skin and him hissing as she sank down onto his cock.

Suppressing the arousal that wanted to change the air around them, Cassian retaliated, “Or perhaps, I know that someone uses his shadows to spy on other Fae’s hands.”

“A theory that has never been proved,” Azriel counteracted smoothly. Then his lips twitched. “You’re just upset because more often than not, you have found yourself short of clothing.”

At that, Nesta’s head cocked to the side, those steel-blue eyes boring into Cassian so much that his skin _ached_ for her to touch him. It had been too long since they had last been joined. Too long since he had tasted her skin and swallowed her gasped moans. Too long since he had drawn out her pleasure again and again. Shown her what bedding a male should be like, rather than the sub-par fucks she had subjected herself to in Velaris.

The last time they had come together, against all of the odds, Nesta had stayed in his bed. Their couplings were usually rough and fast, but recently they had been slowly transforming into something more tender. A stolen kiss after they were nothing more than a mess of tangled, heaving limbs. A forehead rested against the other. Passionate confessions rather than barked words. Fingers wound through wind-snarled hair. A thumb brushed over the arch of a cheek. Mostly, they were from him, but Nesta had allowed it to happen. Had only pulled him closer, her beautiful, mesmerising eyes turning from hard and unreachable, to widened tunnels that offered an insight into who she truly was.

And then, after their last joining, Cassian had woken early the next morning to find his wing curved around her body. His fingers were caught in the golden brown ropes of her hair, as if the tangible sensation would stop her from disappearing.

It had amazed Cassian that she had not left. That she was still tucked up along his chest, her skin wonderfully warm for the first time, as if he had thawed her ice.

Cassian had lain with her for hours whilst she continued to sleep. Had remained beside her whilst the light bled into the soft hues of dawn through the gaps in the curtains. Not that he had been watching the sky. Instead, he had drank in the softness of her expression. Relished the gentle, even breath that was warm against his chest. Dared to run his palm over her tangled hair when she murmured in her sleep. Tried not to think too hard on how she settled at his touch.

He had hoped that perhaps her staying had been another chip in that iron block.

He had been wrong.

Nesta hadn’t gone near him since. Had deliberately avoided him, even as the air crackled between them with the sort of thick sexual energy that had newly mated couples fucking on every surface they could find.

But they were not a newly mated couple.

Pushing the thought of Nesta in his bed to the back of his mind, Cassian barked a laugh at the shadowsinger, “You would also be pissed if you were freezing your balls off whilst someone didn’t even lose his _socks_.”

He threw cards across the table to each of them and with a casual flare of his siphons, chips appeared, already split into neat piles.

“Females first,” Azriel told Nesta with a slight dip of his head. He was sitting forward in his seat, his back straight and poised, his wings tucked neatly behind him — gentlemanly. A stark contrast to Cassian, who was relaxed and cock-sure as he leant back into the cushions, the calf of his right leg balancing on the broad, muscular thigh of his left. He lay an arm across the tops of the cushions. It was, Cassian realised, unconsciously reaching towards Nesta, but he could not find it in himself to retract his arm, even as Azriel wordlessly tracked the movement.

Spreading his wings to catch the warmth of the fire, Cassian watched Nesta inch forward so she was sitting on the edge of the cushions. Her expression was a blank, impenetrable mask and it made his gut twist uncomfortably. She had been impossible to reach lately and his absence had done nothing to remedy that. Her eyes were hollow, her appetitenon-existent before that evening, and Cassian could almost sense the underlying numbness that coated her limbs. He wanted to spark the life back into her. Had tried his best to coax some sort of reaction from her that morning during their training session, but his taunting words had done nothing to rile that fire from within her. Instead, she had remained mostly mute, channeling her focus into the impact of her fists against his palms.

Even her power had remained unusually quiet as if it had been pushed far, far down.

After a few moments of studying her cards, Nesta tossed a few chips into the middle of the table.

Cassian raised an eyebrow at Azriel, but otherwise remained silent.

He did not doubt that Nesta knew how to play. Was more than aware that she had spent her time in Velaris sampling watery ale, playing cards, and fucking males he would have rather throttled to death than allow anywhere near her. So her move surprised him.

What surprised him more, is that she did not comment when she lost and Azriel raked in his chips. Instead, she pulled the loose knit dress that Cassian often saw her wearing in the evenings over her head, and tossed it onto the couch to reveal the camisole underneath. It was charcoal grey, the long-sleeved material scooped at the neck, hinting at the promise of cleavage that made Cassian’s mouth dry. On her legs, Nesta wore dark leggings which hugged to her long legs as if they were a second skin. Both of them were much-needed thermals to combat the harsh weather conditions in Illyria, but they were undeniably tight-fitting, the garments moulding to Nesta’s curves in the way that the shapeless dress had not.

If Azriel had not been here, Cassian would have leapt across the couch consequences be damned. But they were not alone. Indeed, it appeared that the shadowsinger had not been able to catch his expression either, but Nesta did not seem to notice as she looked between them.

Or if she did, Nesta had decided ignoring their expressions was an additional punishment to the tight material that clung to her very generous cleavage.

“Is this not how you both play?” Nesta challenged, when neither of them spoke.

Azriel was still staring, his face wholly unreadable as his shadows wreathed around his face, but Cassian knew that the shadowsinger had not been expecting it. He was not used to dealing with Nesta’s fire. But Cassian was, and it was the first he had seen of it in weeks. So he only shot her a slow, wicked smile that he knew would make that fire burn, even as he knew they were stepping onto dangerous, untested ground. “If that’s how you want to play, sweetheart. It’s your turn to deal.”

So they played. Cassian lost the next round. Then Nesta. Cassian. Nesta. Azriel. Cassian. Cassian. Azriel. Nesta. Cassian. Cassian.

An hour later, Cassian threw his cards down with a defeated groan. 

And Nesta, the she-devil, _smirked_ as she pulled the last of his chips towards her. It was a movement that widened when Cassian snarled softly.

Azriel leant forwards from where he was seated, his elbows coming to rest on his broad thighs. He had lost his socks but otherwise remained fully dressed. He was holding his wings a fraction higher than usual, as if he were having to concentrate more than he usually did when they played cards.

A muscle ticked in the shadowsinger’s cheek. It was enough to tell Cassian that he was suppressing a smile. And because his brother had not smiled in months, Cassian pulled off his undershorts without hesitation, even as he groused, “Amused, brother?”

Again, Azriel’s lips tugged upwards. And then, to Cassian’s surprise, the shadowsinger chuckled with a small shake of his head, “You two need a chaperone up here?”

“Don’t be an ass,” Cassian sniped, but he swept the discarded cards and shuffled them back into the deck. “I suppose I will resort to the role of dealer,” he grumbled.

To Cassian’s surprise, Nesta had neither watched him discard his final item of clothing or glared at him when he dared to sit a little closer to her. Instead, she ignored him, with as much practiced efficiency as when she managed to deny that irresistible pull between them. It was a skill which Cassian found tormentingly hard, and he tried to rid the temptation that had his fingers itching to tug her into his lap and run his hands over her bare skin by rustling his wings. Still, Nesta did not turn around as she stacked her newly acquired chips into neat piles, and when Cassian dealt her cards, she took them without glancing up at him, even as he positioned himself so he could survey her new hand.

Or, at least, Cassian _thought_ she hadn’t been looking at him.

“Cold?” she asked, not even deigning to meet his eyes as she pushed a generous amount of chips towards a stoic Azriel.

“Very good, sweetheart,” Cassian snickered. He draped his arm back along the top of the couch, all the while biting his tongue to prevent him from saying anything further. Perhaps how Nesta had not complained about the size of him each time she had shattered around his cock.

When Cassian looked to Azriel over Nesta’s cards, the shadowsinger was watching him with unreadable hazel eyes. It was the sort of look that told Cassian that Azriel had seen right through him.

Fucking spymaster.

Cassian supposed it would only have been a matter of time before his friends found out he was bedding the eldest Archeron sister anyway.

“Your move,” Nesta clipped impatiently at Azriel.

Nesta had not concealed her cards from Cassian. Had not made a deliberate point of distancing herself from him as she had taken to doing as of late. She only remained poised on the edge of the couch cushions, her back stiff and her chin raised.

Cassian had learnt long ago that deliberate stillness from Nesta was her way of letting him in without her explicitly having to say it.

Now was one of those times. He wondered if it was because, like him, Nesta had missed their couplings. Too many times Cassian had opened his mouth to tell her that if she wanted, they could wind back to how they used to be; snarls and moans, ripped clothing and frenzied, passionate fucking that was almost animalistic in its pursuit for pleasure. Two weeks apart had him desperate to have her close again, even if that meant denying himself the satisfaction that came with watching her walls of steel and ice give way to something softer, more vulnerable…

Even now, Cassian was having to make a conscious effort not to inch further across the couch and drop his lips to the curve where her shoulder sloped up to the pale column of her neck...

By now, Nesta had been parted with her dress, socks and leggings. When Nesta had lost the latter, even Azriel had been unable to stop his eyes from darkening as she peeled the fur-lined thermals from her long legs. And as Cassian watched the shadowsinger slowly drag his gaze up Nesta’s legs to the black material of her underwear, Cassian’s heart started to race in a way he had not expected.

He and Azriel had fucked together before. Not on a regular basis granted, but there had been enough moments over their lifetime together when they had headed home not as a duo but with a third or fourth Fae in tow. Together, they formed an irresistible combination: the dark and brooding shadowsinger and the cocky general with the loose mouth. That, and Fae were always curious to find out if the rumours about wingspan were myth or truth. They were never disappointed, largely because both Cassian and Azriel got off on seeing the pleasure drawn out on others, rather than seeing it as a conquest to their own happy ending.

And the way that Azriel had raked his gaze to Nesta’s underwear… Cassian knew that look. Knew that even as the shadowsinger kept a tight leash on his arousal that he was thinking about burying his head between Nesta’s legs. About the ways in which he could break down those walls and make her moan. Knew that if Azriel got what he wanted, Cassian would be able to watch Nesta’s expression break in a way that he was not usually privy to when it was him that was eating her out.

The knowledge did not make the territorial part of Cassian claw to the surface. Instead, to his surprise, he felt heat lick at his core.

He managed to quell the fire before his cock stirred.

Unlike Cassian who was completely bare, the shadowsinger had only lost his socks. It did not surprise Cassian in the least, but it hadn’t stopped him from wanting to snarl a little. Cassian’s irritation was futile, because in over five hundred years, Azriel had never lost in a game of cards, and even Cassian would bet against everyone at the poker table when Azriel was sitting amongst them, himself included.

But now, as Cassian carefully surveyed the female before him, he knew that Azriel’s luck was about to change. Because whilst Azriel might have an excellent poker face, Cassian could see from over Nesta’s shoulder that she had a straight flush to Azriel’s full house, but had only nodded that the shadowsinger should take the chips in the centre of the table.

And Nesta, his divine temptress, was allowing him in on the secret.

So Cassian remained deathly quiet. He watched them play. Watched Nesta peel off her camisole to reveal a matching black bra with trim lace that was simple enough but still had Cassian’s blood coursing through his veins. It was a response that his body never seemed to get tire of; Nesta’s cleavage was unlike any other females he had witnessed, the swell of creamy skin so tempting he wanted to rip the bra from her chest and waste no time capturing a nipple between his teeth.

Whilst other females might dress themselves in tempting lace lingerie and push-up bras, Nesta did not need anything excessive to make her any more tempting or beautiful. She was devastating enough without it. Did not need any distraction from her sweeping curves. From the cleavage that had blood rushing to his groin with such urgency, that this time Cassian did not bother to hide his obvious arousal.

It was going to happen at some point anyway, especially as she turned to him with mercury burning in her eyes and pooled the camisole onto his lap.

Cassian could not help the way his nostrils flared as he scented her skin or the way his wings snapped out wide, but Nesta paid him no heed, turning back to the game. Her pale skin had pebbled from the cold air, and Cassian deliberately kept his left wing outstretched so it could curve around her shoulders, directing the warmth from the fire back to her body. Nesta did not thank him, but when he bent over her to deal the next of the cards, she leant back into him slightly, as if she welcomed the additional heat.

Azriel did not comment, only watched with those steadily darkening eyes as Cassian, naked as the day he had been born, inched closer to Nesta as she slowly but surely rid Azriel of every item of his clothing.

By the time Azriel was down to nothing but his undershorts, half of Cassian’s chest was resting against Nesta’s back and he had dared to wind an arm around her waist. Cassian had not failed to notice the way Nesta’s stormy blue eyes raked appreciatively down Azriel’s body as he had unbuttoned his shirt or stepped out of his finely tailored pants.

In fact, Nesta had not batted Cassian away, even as she made no move to encourage him. She had not stopped him when he tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear so he could murmur to her. Had not stopped the thumb that he had brushed against her soft skin. When she lost a hand and Cassian had unclipped her bra for her before she could do it herself, she had not snarled. She had only sat up a little straighter, as if she were completely unfazed as her breasts met the cold air and her nipples peaked.

When Nesta lay down her cards to show Azriel that her royal flush beat his straight, Cassian barked a delighted laugh.

“I’ve seen it all,” Cassian remarked drily, as Azriel stood to remove his undershorts.

The action highlighted the strong, chiselled muscles of the shadowsinger’s abdomen and Cassian clocked the way Nesta’s eyes tracked the movement. He knew she preferred her males built. Had watched her pick them out as well as she could in the sleazy taverns. Azriel may not be as broad as Cassian, but his years of training in the camps and his regular sparring meant he was far more in shape than the average Fae.

“Good game,” Azriel said softly. His voice had dropped so that it was almost honeyed, and his dark eyes tracked Nesta’s bare skin in a way that had Cassian’s entire body tensing in anticipation.

“Again?” Cassian asked, even as he wanted to drop his mouth to Nesta’s neck and taste her skin. “We could—”

But Nesta interrupted him. “What do I win.”

Nesta’s back was still straight, but he had felt her resolve melting with every stroke of his thumb across her ribcage. Had felt her ice creak and crack until it started to fall away, that numbness coating her limbs fading into the background as her nerve endings started to sing.

“Your prize is the satisfaction of seeing two males and their impressive wingspans,” Cassian countered with a lazy grin, lifting his hand to trail his fingers up the curve of her waist. He watched Nesta clamp down on a shudder but it was too late; goosebumps littered her skin despite the heat he’d redirected back to her body with his curved wing. 

“Are they impressive,” Nesta asked, her tone flat. Bored. But there; Cassian caught a spike of arousal thrum through her. Not only did he notice the change in her scent but in his blood, his core, as if his body answered to her every whim.

From the way Azriel shifted from his place on the couch, Cassian knew he had scented it, too.

“I’ve seen better,” Nesta replied.

“I doubt that,” Azriel deadpanned, as if he were trying to play along, but his eyes were fixated on the left breast that Cassian had dared to trail his fingers towards. When they brushed the underside Nesta went preternaturally still, more so than he had ever witnessed from her, but he felt the pleasure course through her, felt it deep in his gut. Felt his cock twitch as more blood rushed southward.

“Is that what you want for winning,” Cassian murmured into her ear. “Proof?”

A snort, but Nesta’s body arched slightly as he dared to drag his fingers over the swell of her breast to run over a hard nipple. She raised her chin defiantly, staring straight into Azriel’s hungry eyes. “If you like.”

Yes. That was Nesta’s way of saying yes.

Azriel’s eyes slid to Cassian’s and when Cassian raised an imploring eyebrow, the shadowsinger confirmed what they both wanted with a slight dip of the chin.

So Cassian threw in all his metaphorical chips, as he gambled with a wicked grin, “If you get us hard, perhaps you’ll see whether the rumours are myth or truth.”

Nesta turned her head to stare at Cassian, the movement slow — royal. As if he were a subject and she his queen. He did not back down as their eyes met, not even as her arm drew back so her fingers brushed along the length of him.

Cassian’s breath drew itself sharply from his lungs as his half-hard cock leapt to attention. Nesta’s eyes glinted in triumph, watching his expression with a fierce intensity as she dragged her fingers upwards, to the head that was already starting to swell.

Biting back a groan, Cassian fought the urge to lift his hips off of the cushions and into her touch. He felt all of his blood rush southward in a mighty sweep, as if a dam had been opened, his arousal already thick enough that he could not see or think straight. He did not care that her lips had tugged slightly upwards, the movement smug. Did not care about anything other than the feel of her hand as she wrapped it around his swelling erection and started to play with the head.

This time Cassian couldn’t help the grunt that escaped him or the way his head fell back briefly onto the cushions as he succumbed to the sensation that had narrowed his focus. He noted the way Nesta dragged her eyes away from him, to Azriel, whose shadows were eddying around him at a pace that was noticeably faster than before. As if they were excited.

Nesta leant back into Cassian’s body, spread her knees ever so slightly in a movement that deliberately showcased her black underwear… the fabric that was already damp where it rested against her core. Her fist remained tight around Cassian’s member, the angle allowing her better movement, and Cassian hissed as she pressed a thumb into the underside of his cock and slid it upwards. Distracted himself by swiping her hair from her neck so he could press his lips to her skin.

Azriel’s nostrils flared, his wings snapping out wide.

“Come here,” she ordered.

There was a moment’s hesitation as the shadowsinger looked to Cassian, seeking permission for something which was not Cassian’s to give. But he jerked his head into a nod anyway, at the same time that he palmed at Nesta’s breast before he raked a nail lightly over her nipple in the way that usually had Nesta spreading her legs for him.

As soon as Azriel saw Cassian nod, he blended in and out of shadow, until he was by Nesta’s other side, his large thigh pressing against her knee. The shadowsinger was still fixated on Cassian’s hands as it toyed with Nesta’s generous breast, his pupils blown wide, no doubt at the scent of Nesta’s arousal which was mingling with both of theirs.

Cassian knew how intoxicating Nesta’s scent was. There was something ancient and wholly irresistible about it. If Nesta cared for it, males would destroy worlds for her. Would bow to her and beg. But Nesta did not care for war or politics. She only cared about meaningless fucks and the cresting wave of an orgasm which chased away the numb.

Raking her gaze down the shadowsinger’s chiselled body to his lap, Nesta smirked. Azriel was already half-hard, the length of him twitching against his leg.

The shadowsinger did not move as Nesta reached a hand to trace the hard muscles of his chest and abdomen, his expression as stoic as ever save for the obvious lust in his eyes. Cassian’s breath caught in his chest as he watched, pleasure spiking through him at the initiated contact, at the promise of what was to come. 

When Nesta’s fingers closed around Azriel’s cock, his friend’s shadows betrayed him, skittering from his face as if the leash on his control had gone slack.

Dark tendrils reached out to ghost across Nesta’s skin, the shadows not unlike ropes as they wound their way towards her.

They did not get far. A snarl ripped free from Cassian’s throat with such ferocity the walls of the bungalow shuddered. The shadows stopped dead in the air, a stolid darkness that obscured parts of Nesta’s body. Cassian used the opportunity to tighten his arm around Nesta’s waist, to pull her closer to him, because he had felt Nesta’s internal panic, even as her expression did not change.

“No shadows,” Cassian growled.

Nesta had frozen, but the way her fingers remained fisted around the hard lengths of them both told Cassian that she had no intention of stopping.

Cassian did not offer an explanation to the shadowsinger. Would not explain that Nesta did not like to be submerged in darkness. How the ropes of the shadowsinger’s shadows reminded her of how she had been pinned and bound.

Cassian did not care that his friend was hurting and his mate — the mate who had rejected him but would take his body — was knee deep in trauma. Did not care that this was Nesta’s way of testing him, to see if he could pretend that he did not care for her. That he did not feel the painful, twisting sort of affection that made everything ache.

Cassian could pretend if it meant that he did not lose her. He could not deny the desire that thrummed through his veins, his blood singing to be even closer to Nesta, to see what she looked like when two males worshipped her. Yet, he would not do this if Azriel’s shadows so much as roped around Nesta’s body. Knew that something would snap deep inside of him and he would become a feral beast.

There was a too long pause, but then Azriel’s shadows were moving, retreating back to coil around his body.

The shadowsinger nodded once to indicate that he had heard, met Cassian’s eyes, that silent understanding passing from one to the other.

 _Fine. Ok. I won’t_.

So Cassian did not break the shadowsinger’s gaze, even as he dropped his lips to the slope of Nesta’s shoulder. His territory. His and Nesta’s. Azriel may be a guest, but that was it. No more. In the five months that Nesta had been living with him, they had carved out space for the two of them; when their bodies came together in a blur or bruising kisses and sighing moans. The only time she let him close.

Or she usually let her guard down. But not today. No sliver of vulnerability, only smouldering, challenging eyes which Cassian knew to be a test. To see if he could slip back into casual, meaningless fucking as she saw fit.

So Cassian vowed to make it good for her. A union to rival whatever male bodies she had been pressed between before.

He knew she’d had at least one encounter with multiple males. Had watched two males go home with her.

He’d thrown his fist through a wall that evening. Had caught sight of the rolling flesh and sweaty limbs and possessive groans. Had felt how she had been numb the entire time. How she hadn’t enjoyed it, not really.

Cassian had left for Illyria for a month after that, unable to explain to his friends why he would not come home. That he had been sighting his mate down the bond whilst she fucked other males and it had made him sick. That he was finally giving her the space she had asked for even though it was killing him, because he knew he was not worthy. 

The distance hadn’t helped. He still got the visions anyway, even though it shouldn’t have been possible. Even a mating bond shouldn’t allow him to glimpse his mate in the miles that were strung between Velaris to Illyria.

Cassian and Azriel shared a look as those shadows twined back around the shadowsinger. As Cassian reached over Nesta to wrap his palm around the slim hand that was still gripping his friend’s cock. Together, he coaxed their hands into movement, until Nesta was sliding her hand up and down Azriel’s length of her own volition.

When Nesta started to move her other hand on him, her slim fist twisting expertly up over the head of his cock in the way that she knew would eventually have him panting, Cassian could not help but swear, the word a rumbling garble in her ear. He thrust his hips into her grip just as she arched into Azriel’s touch, his scarred hands finally reaching forward to run over her curves, her breasts...

The movement sparked Cassian into action, and Azriel let out a grunt of approval as Cassian’s hand ghosted down Nesta’s body and over the fabric of her underwear. As Nesta’s breath hitched in the way Cassian was so fond of, her hips tilting into his touch, her silent way of telling him to give her more, more, more.

But Cassian did not give Nesta what she wanted. Instead, he teased his fingers lightly over the cloth, running his fingers up and down her slit. The fabric was already damp, and satisfaction wound through him that she was so turned on. He supposed he should not be surprised. Nesta liked to be in control, liked to feel powerful… But she was also impatient in her pursuit of pleasure, something which Cassian never relented to, largely for the look of exquisite fury on her face when she realised she was close to pleading.

So Cassian continued to tease her, and only when she snarled at him with a ferocity that had silver misting from her fingertips did Cassian laugh, the sound a low deep rumble in her ear as he finally slipped his hand beneath the waistband of her underwear.

It had been clear that Nesta was wet — and Cassian could scent her arousal from a mile off, mingling with theirs — but finally feeling just how turned on she was, had the primal part of him roaring.

“She’s soaked,” Cassian groaned to Azriel, his fingers sliding too easily through her folds.

Azriel grunted in appreciation. The sound was muffled, his lips closed firmly around a nipple as he suckled. He had been lavishing her breasts with his attention; palming and squeezing and pinching and biting until Nesta was squirming, writhing against Cassian, her breath coming out in sharp, desperate pants.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Cassian groaned as he drew that slickness back up, sliding a finger in a wide arch, dodging that bundle of nerves. And then, when Nesta cried out in frustration, the sound sharp and indignant, Cassian pressed down firmly on her clit.

The ragged moan that tore itself from Nesta’s throat was beautiful. Cassian did not have to turn Nesta’s face to him in order to swallow the sound with his lips and tongue. She did that of her own volition, tugging his head down with the hand which had been curled around him so he could capture her mouth, her fingers weaving into the wind-snarled length of his hair as if it were the most natural movement in the world.

She tasted like tea and vanilla. Like Nesta, and everything in Cassian sighed at the connection she was finally stringing back between them, even if she was jerking off his friend.

When Nesta pulled away, her eyes were glazed in a way that told him that she was gone.

Cassian wanted to swear, but words wouldn’t form in his mind, so he slipped two fingers inside of her instead and curled upwards.

Nesta’s moan had his blood spiking. Azriel lifted his attention from Nesta’s breasts to admire the way her body arched, his calloused hands falling to her hips. Then with deliberate intent, Azriel moved off the couch and onto his knees, his erection bouncing out of Nesta’s touch to slap against the hard muscles of his stomach. 

Nesta whined in protest when Cassian withdrew his fingers, but she soon moaned again when he began to circle her clit. 

“Don’t stop, sweetheart,” Cassian rasped, urging her to continue her ministrations on his cock.

Nesta moaned again, her head falling back onto his shoulder as he pressed down more firmly with a calloused finger, increasing the friction she so desperately needed. She started to toss him off again, her fist moving with more purpose this time, the steady rhythm in tandem with the moving hand he had buried beneath her underwear.

Cassian swore under his breath. Everything felt too good, too perfect, but then Azriel’s fingers closed around the waistband of Nesta’s underwear with the intention of easing the sodden material down her legs, and Cassian realised that his pleasure was nothing in comparison to what it could be when Azriel tasted his mate, even though the territorial part of him thrashed under the surface.

Shooting out a hand, Cassian tugged lightly at the shadowsinger’s short hair.

Dark eyes stared up at him as Cassian shook his head. The coffee table and two sets of wings left them with little room for manoeuvre. “Bedroom,” he said roughly.

Azriel did not protest, he only dropped his scarred hands away from the underwear he had yet to remove and held them out to Nesta.

The shadowsinger did not flinch as Nesta raked her eyes up his body, her eyes gleaming at the hard length of him — a gleam that Cassian knew meant she was contemplating dropping to her knees and taking him in her mouth — before she took his hands.

“Mine or yours?” Cassian asked Nesta, coming up behind her and touching his fingers to her neck.

“Yours,” Nesta said, and then she strode to his bedroom as if she was a queen in search of her throne.

Cassian came up behind Nesta just as she made to kneel onto the mattress. He caught her around the waist, turning them so the backs of his knees hit the edge of the mattress. He coaxed her down with him, pulling her hips until her back was flush to his chest for the second time that evening.

There was an almost predatory look on Azriel’s face as he stepped out of the shadows, his wings huge and mighty behind him. Cassian had seen the expression on the shadowsinger before, usually when he intended to draw out long, prolonged pleasure both for himself and the others he was bedding.

Leaning back on an arm for purchase, Cassian gave the invitation Azriel was waiting for; he pulled Nesta’s underwear to the side, the material ripping slightly beneath his fierce grip. “I believe you were about to taste Nesta,” he drawled.

The shadowsinger huffed, the only indication that he was amused, as he dropped silently to his knees.

“Azriel likes to have females begging,” Cassian told Nesta, his lips a distraction at her ear. He watched his voice skitter down her skin, relishing in the way the hairs of her arms stood on end in anticipation.

But Nesta raised her chin, meeting Azriel’s eyes as the shadowsinger looped her legs over his shoulders. The movement was careful, designed to avoid the shadowsinger’s wings. Nesta knew better than to touch them. Rarely dared to try and touch Cassian’s. “Unfortunately for you, I don’t beg.”

Her voice was wholly even but Cassian felt her heart thump against her ribcage.

It was a lie. She had begged for Cassian before.

And then Azriel spoke for the first time since they had started this insanity.

“Yet,” Azriel promised darkly, and then he slowly lowered his mouth to her. 

Cassian’s body _burned_ as Azriel swiped the flat of his tongue over Nesta’s folds. The drawn out movement was full of promise; of expertise and precision from years of worship. It made Cassian’s cock throb painfully. Just the thought of Nesta breaking beneath Azriel’s tongue made him want to roar, but he made do with grinding his erection into Nesta’s bare back as he reached around to cup her breasts. Nesta had gone still in the way she often did when someone first went down on her, as if she were afraid to breathe. Cassian knew she found the act too intimate, too vulnerable as she was splayed out before someone, but Cassian also knew that Azriel would coax pleasure out of Nesta that would shatter through that numbness, until her lungs were gasping and her fingers were grappling at the sheets for purchase.

And Cassian had an unprecedented view.

Over Nesta’s shoulder, Cassian watched Azriel tease her. Watched the shadowsinger trace his tongue over her in a way that was too leisurely, denying Nesta of the steady rhythm across her clit that would have toes curling as she hurtled towards orgasm. Watched Nesta slowly unravel bit by bit, kissing away her hoarse moans that coursed around the room. He lavished attention onto her neck, raking his teeth down the unblemished skin, fluttering his tongue against her pulse point as he sucked hard enough for her skin to bruise. Traced the elegant tip of her ear with his tongue before tugging her lobe between his teeth.

When Nesta’s cries were a steady stream and her stomach was tensing beneath a splayed palm, Cassian ripped the fabric of her underwear clean off of her.

Azriel growled in approval, his lips fastening over Nesta’s clit with a new sort of intent, his scarred hands pulling her hips closer. His wings flared behind him as he buried his face back between her folds, his tongue fluttering over that bundle of nerves until Nesta’s voice broke and she whimpered. 

“Cassian,” she bit out, the word breaking into a sob that Cassian knew Nesta hated herself for as she struggled to find purchase in Azriel’s hair.

She let out a frustrated snarl, as if she had been expecting more, and then her arms were winding around Cassian’s neck to tug at the length of his hair.

Nesta’s nails dug hard into his scalp, but the pain was a pleasant distraction from his throbbing cock. When a satisfied moan escaped Nesta’s lungs, Cassian bowed his head to snarl softly into her neck — the sound possessive — as he scraped his teeth up the pale column that was his downfall every, damn time.

“Is that good, sweetheart?” Cassian murmured, pressing the words into her skin as he continued to marvel at the weight of her breasts in his hands. He rolled her nipples between his thumb and forefingers, tugging at the peaks which were as stiff as his cock, relishing in her cry as she arched into him.

“I love hearing you moan,” he rasped, watching as Azriel drew broad circles around that bundle of nerves in just the way Nesta liked. “Can you feel how hard you make me?”

With a whimper, Nesta turned her head towards him, burying it into the crook of his neck. When Azriel closed his mouth around her clit and sucked, she rolled back onto Cassian’s erection with a sharp cry.

Gently, Cassian ran a hand through her hair, pushing the golden brown strands from her face so he could access her mouth. The brush of her tongue against his had everything in him snapping, as the light from his end of the bond flooded into the inky dark. That tunnel widened with the movement, Nesta’s pleasure barrelling down to his core.

It snapped his self-control, the words falling out of his mouth before he could stop himself, even as he knew it would make Nesta blush, “How does she taste?”

Slowly, Azriel rose his head to look at Cassian. His lips wet and swollen, his pupils blown impossibly wide. He dragged two fingers through Nesta’s folds, swiping briefly over her swollen clit, just as his other hand pumped at his cock, as if he too were too far gone for self-restraint. “Delicious,” he said, his cold voice as close to a caress as Cassian had ever heard it. “I could do this all evening.”

The chill of Azriel’s promise had Nesta breaking, the teasing too much. Azriel had coaxed Nesta’s body to the brink so many times that her body was trembling, every muscle taut and expectant. She went to snarl, her resolve finally breaking, but then Azriel was easing two fingers inside of her and the sound died in her throat.

The desperate way that Nesta’s breath stuttered sparked Cassian into action. He moved before he could think, easing Nesta onto her back and kneeling by her head.

His cock was thick and aching, the tip leaking with pre-cum in a way that he would have found mortifying if he wasn’t too gone to care.

“Sweetheart,” he begged hoarsely, pleading for her to touch him again, but he needn't have bothered. Nesta’s hand immediately came up to wrap around him, her thumb swiping over the bead of moisture and running it down his length.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his hips bucking into her hand. He leant over to skim his hands down her body with the sort of reverence he was not supposed to let himself give in to. “You’re so beautiful,” he rasped, “even Azriel can’t help but touch himself. He’s jerking off as he tastes you.”

Another broken sound was pulled from Nesta. She moved her hand faster, sliding up and down the length of him, twisting her hand over the head with such expert precision he nearly lost all sense of control as she tried to arch into Azriel, wanting — no, _needing_ — his mouth back on her clit.

“Make me come.” It was a moaned order. The closest Nesta would ever get to pleading.

Cassian’s hand moved of its own volition, his fingers sliding down until they passed over her swollen clit, his jaw slack as her hips bucked into his touch. Azriel held Nesta down, his fingers working harder with an expertise that usually had the females he bedded screaming as he scraped his teeth over the insides of Nesta’s thighs.

Panted gasps worked their way into Cassian’s ears. He gripped Nesta’s hand, bucking into her fist as her body went taut, like a rope about to be cut loose. Her back arched, her head tilting back onto the mattress, exposing her neck as Cassian continued to draw tight, relentless circles around that bundle of nerves.

He knew the second before it was going to happen. Felt Nesta reach that pinnacle that turned everything quiet. For a second, she was in free-fall, that mist wreathing around her hands, travelling down her arms… Cassian heard Azriel grunt into the skin of Nesta’s thigh, felt his own body move without his brain ordering it, collapsing over her to sink his teeth into Nesta’s neck as that wave came crashing down.

Nesta cried out, the sound sharp in the air as her magic flew from her fingertips, a silver blaze flying across the room and illuminating the ceiling to broadcast three sets of shadow and two huge sets of wings.

Her body shook and jerked as wave after wave of pleasure barrelled through her body. When she was finished, she sank her body back into the mattress with a shuddered moan, as if her orgasm had left her completely boneless. Slowly, her hands came up toautomatically bury themselves back into Cassian’s hair, as if it were a tether bringing her back down from the high she had been riding him.

Shame flooded Cassian as he realised his teeth were still clamped around her neck… that he had claimed her in front of Azriel without rational thought. He made his jaw go slack, ran the flat of his tongue repeatedly along the dented skin he had not quite punctured, licking away the pain as he gently ghosted over her folds, teasing the final dregs of pleasure from her.

Azriel bent to close his lips over Nesta’s clit, his mouth suckling at Cassian’s fingers as he lapped up the wetness, until Nesta shuddered from the sensitivity and pushed his head away.

“Was that good, sweetheart?” Cassian asked hoarsely, hoping to the Cauldron that Nesta was not going to shy away from him. He looked down to survey her flushed face. Her skin was sweaty and pink — beautiful — and he brushed away the golden brown hair that was stuck to her face, swiping his thumb along the arch of her cheekbone as he went.  
  
He was amazed when Nesta only nodded in reply, tightening her grip on his hair to pull his mouth to hers. She allowed Azriel’s scarred hands to coax her legs open again as he stood between them. Only let out a low, shuddered moan as Azriel slid the length of him through her folds.

Azriel’s eyes met Cassian’s for a fraction of a second. For once the shadowsinger’s expression was not stoic. Instead, Cassian detected a wariness to his expression; the slight crease of his brow and the look in his eyes that it had all clicked into place.

But Cassian did not make a sound of protest as Azriel slowly eased the tip of his straining cock into Nesta. Tried to push down the territorial part of him that wanted to snarl and attack. Focussed only on the pleasure running down that bond that told him Nesta was safe and happy. That she wanted this.

Nesta let out a whimper as her body stretched to accommodate the shadowsinger, but still Azriel’s eyes did not leave Cassian’s face. Out of the two of them, Azriel was the longest. But Cassian was not far behind him, his cock thicker than the shadowsinger’s, allowing him to push against those vital nerve endings that most other males didn’t have the luxury of.

Grabbing a few pillows, Cassian coaxed them beneath Nesta’s head. When she reached up to grab his cock, he moaned. His moan was even louder when her other hand snaked around his hips, tugging him closer so his knees were cradling her head, his chest facing the end of the bed, offering him an unprecedented view of Azriel as he slid into her.

He nearly died when Nesta opened her mouth. Thought his heart would stop beating as he guided his cock between her lips.

Nesta’s mouth was wet and warm and tight, and Cassian let out a ragged moan as she fisted her hand around him and started to suck.

“Fuck, _Nesta_ ,” Cassian groaned in awe as he looked down at her — at his dick hard and throbbing in her mouth and Azriel’s cock, which was still easing into her. “You have no idea how unbelievable you look right now.” He pulled out of her mouth and tapped his cock onto her outstretched tongue. Nesta moaned, her hands coming up to slide around his hips again, to his buttocks, where she pressed insistently, urging him back into her mouth just as Azriel started some slow, shallow thrusts.

The motion made Nesta’s breasts start to bounce, and Cassian tracked the movement with a slack jaw, his eyes darting between them and her lips which were wrapped tightly around him. If her mouth hadn’t felt so heavenly, Cassian would have taken no time in straddling her waist and thrusting between her cleavage.

Perhaps that was something for another time, Cassian thought raggedly. Something for when it was just the two of them…

Nesta moaned around the length of him as Azriel started to pick up the pace, the shadowsinger sliding into her waiting body in that dark and brooding way of his. His jaw was also slack, his eyes moving between Nesta’s breasts and mouth, as if he too couldn’t decide which was more appealing.

Pleasure spiked through Cassian as Azriel gave a long, hard thrust. The pleasure was not just his own, it clung deep to his insides, curling like a sensual fog around his ribcage.

To feel his own arousal was one thing, but to feel another’s so keenly had the primal part of Cassian springing to the forefront.

“Can I fuck your mouth, sweetheart?” he begged raggedly, pulling his cock out of her mouth again. More pre-cum was leaking from the tip and he watched it drip into Nesta’s waiting mouth. She swallowed it with another moan, that beautiful frown twisting her expression as Azriel sunk in again right to the hilt.

Her hands closed fast around the hand he had placed on her cheek. “Will you let me?” He urged, his wings snapping out wide as she sucked his thumb into her mouth.

When Nesta nodded, the gesture was almost desperate and her eyes glittered in a way he had not seen before.

“Good girl,” Cassian breathed, bending to briefly press his swollen lips to hers. “I’ll be gentle with you, I promise.”

He swore as he started to move, the sight of his cock sliding between her lips too good to be true. He grunted, watching the tantalising column of her throat moving as she took him with every measured thrust. As Azriel started to pick up the pace, his hips slapping into Nesta’s in a relentless, tireless rhythm, pressing his weight on the undersides of Nesta’s thighs, holding her wide open…

And from the noises that Nesta started to make, Cassian knew that it wasn’t just he and Azriel that were enjoying it. He could hear her arousal too; the wet, slick sound as Azriel plunged into Nesta over and over. Even the shadowsinger had resorted to thick, heavy breathing, his chest heaving as his chiselled body moved in time with Nesta’s.

“She’s close,” Cassian told the Azriel, pulling out of Nesta’s mouth to bend and kiss her again. He caught her lower lip between his teeth as he pulled back, tugging lightly, his hands coaxing Nesta’s to her breasts, to pinch and twist at her nipples.

“Aren’t you, sweetheart?” Cassian asked Nesta softly. He caught her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, urging her to meet his gaze. When Nesta opened her eyes, the smoky blue of her irises were glazed with the heady sort of pleasure that gave way to something more open… more vulnerable. The Nesta that Cassian had come to know in their times between the sheets.

Faelight caught in the lust-filled pupils of Azriel’s eyes, his irises glittering with promise. His abs were gleaming with sweat, the room hot with lust and their desperate pants.

Cassian gripped at his cock with his other hand. Squeezed his fist around the length to ease the tension.

“Azriel’s being a gentlemale, sweetheart,” Cassian continued, his voice a rasp as he raked his eyes appreciatively over the shadowsinger. “He wants you to come again.

“Make me then,” Nesta part-snarled, part-moaned at Azriel, reaching down to pull his scarred hand between her legs. Azriel’s eyes flared and then, without further delay, he thrust hard into Nesta’s waiting body.

Nesta cried out. Cassian felt the pleasure that sparked beneath her closed eyelids as her back arched in desperation at the sudden, punishing rhythm. Azriel sucked at his thumb, dropping it between her legs, using the moisture to press down on Nesta’s clit over and over as he pummelled inside of her.

“That’s it,” Cassian murmured, one hand dropping to fist his member as he held Nesta’s face in the other. He had moved to the side of her head, wanting more than anything to watch the ecstasy unfold across her features. To slide his cock into her mouth just as she came. To stifle the moans as she fell over the edge.

Nesta whined as Cassian moved, her hands grappling for purchase on his muscular thighs, tugging his hips down until the tip of him was in her mouth again and her fist was wrapped around the base.

She pumped and sucked in tandem, doing the best she could at the angle, her moans vibrating down the length of him in a way that was too much, too good…

“Fucking hell,” Cassian swore as Nesta’s eyes rolled into the back of her head. She tore her mouth from him to let out a sharp cry, her fist holding onto him as Azriel pounded her into the mattress.

Cassian’s eyes darted to the scarred hand which was working furiously at that bundle of nerves. Which was clearly doing the job as Nesta cried out again, her eyelids fluttering shut…

“Are you going to come?” Azriel’s low, deep voice caressed its way across the mattress, his words more an order than a question. Nesta did not reply, she only frowned, pleasure contorting her face in a way that somehow made her look even more divine.

“Sweetheart, did you hear?” Cassian dragged his fingers through Nesta’s tangled hair, hoping his touch would coax her to open her eyes — to connect with him. She was biting her lip, hard enough that Cassian wouldn’t be surprised if she broke the skin. “Azriel wants to know if you’re close.” Another gentle comb of his fingers through the hair that had come free from her braid. “Are you going to come with my cock in your mouth?”

Those eyelids fluttered open slowly, as if they were too heavy. Nesta was panting now, her stomach clenching in a way that told Cassian she was already a goner.

“Yes.” The word came out on an exhale of breath as Azriel slammed into her hard. It was barely audible but Cassian caught it. He watched her brow furrow even further as she whimpered, her fingers scrabbling to find purchase around his thighs “Yes, I -“

Then Nesta’s mouth latched back onto his cock just in time for her body to start shaking.

Azriel groaned, his usual composure shattered as Nesta’s body arched sharply, her thighs trembling as she broke and broke and broke. Cassian inhaled sharply, desperately fumbling for some sense of control as he tried not to follow her. For all the females he had bedded, Nesta was something else entirely. Watching her break was usually his undoing as it was, but to have her pleasuring two males at the same time…

It took everything in Cassian to pull his cock from her mouth. To press his lips to hers.

“Doesn’t she look beautiful when she comes?” Cassian asked Azriel, but he was not looking at the shadowsinger, unable to help but bow again to kiss Nesta’s swollen lips.

“Devastating,” Azriel replied, as he withdrew. He was still rock hard, clearly having enough sense to know that Cassian would rip him apart if he came inside of his mate. Gently, the shadowsinger ran his scarred hands up and down the outsides of Nesta’s calves and the tops of her thighs, before he stepped away to kneel onto the mattress.

He settled himself at the top of the bed, his back against the headrest, his erection hard and insistent against his stomach. For once the shadowsinger looked ruffled, his blue black hair tousled. With a long stretch he fanned out his wings, the claws at the apex gripping the top of the tall bed frame.

Nesta had fallen quiet, her arm thrown across her face as she caught her breath, but at the sound of Azriel’s claws on the metal frame, she turned onto her stomach.

She crawled up the bed on her hands and knees until she reached his lap, where she collapsed onto her elbows, her stomach flush with the mattress. Azriel stared down at Nesta with obvious surprise, his eyes glinting as he ran his scarred hands over her hair, holding back the tendrils that had come free from her plait.

Lips slightly parted, Azriel guided his dick past Nesta’s lips. Nesta moaned softly. When she tried to fit as much of Azriel’s length into her mouth as possible, both Cassian and Azriel let out a grunt of approval.

“Cassian,” Nesta breathed insistently after a few bobs of her head. She craned her neck to stare at him. And when she lifted her hips slightly from the bed, her thighs rubbing together as if already she was trying to grant some friction between her legs, Cassian had to bite back a moan. “Fuck me.”

“Like this?” Cassian asked uncertainly, frowning as he ran his hands down her waist and over her hips.

For all the times they had joined, they had never tried that position. Cassian knew what had happened to her. Had guessed what position she had been pinned into when that human filth had assaulted her. Could see the four silvery scratch marks that raked down her lower back and across her left buttock.

“Please,” she breathed, her eyes so trusting that for a moment his heart clenched.

But Cassian couldn’t do it. Couldn’t risk her panicking and ruining everything. So he bent his head to briefly kiss those silvery scars before he turned to lie flat on his back. He coaxed her hips upwards, until there was enough room for him to slide his head between her legs. Then, he splayed his wings out on either side of him, the tips hanging over the huge bed.

Nesta whimpered at the first touch of his tongue and Cassian held in a groan as he lapped at her folds. He knew she was too sensitive to come straight away. Knew that she needed some gentle coaxing to relax her body back into it.

He listened to the sucking sounds of Nesta’s mouth and the occasional, soft moan. Listened to the shadowsinger’s laboured breathing. Growled appreciatively himself when Nesta started to move her hips of her own volition.

When her moans turned wild and untamed, Cassian heard Azriel ask Nesta quietly, “Is that good?”

A whimpered, garbled reply sounded around the room as Cassian latched onto her clit and sucked it into his mouth.

He let out a muffled moan as he felt her body start to tremble.

“Cassian,” Nesta moaned in warning. She tried to pull her hips away from him but he held her down fast. “ _Cassian_.” Not a desperate moan this time, but an angry one. Anger which swept down that bond so fiercely it felt as if he were being scorched.

He let go of her hips and tore his mouth away from her.

“Fuck me,” she snarled, the sound desperate and pleading, and Cassian didn’t need to tilt his head back to know she was glaring at him. “Just-“

“Come here, Nesta.”

Azriel cut her off, pulling her up with him until they were both on their knees and Cassian was tilting his head back to stare up at them. And then, as if she weighed nothing, Azriel slid his scarred hands under her hips and lifted her to his body.

Cassian could sense Nesta’s confusion. Felt that primal part of him start to snap as she wrapped her long legs around the shadowsinger’s waist. But then Azriel was settling Nesta down over Cassian’s body, so her knees were straddling his hips just below his outstretched wings.

When Nesta sank down onto Cassian with a satisfied moan, the room bled into nothing. Cassian let out a slow shaky breath, trying to control that lust-driven piece of him that wanted to pursue both of their pleasure until he was slamming into her body. Instead, he gave himself a moment to take stock. To relish in the moment he had been denying himself of all evening: the feeling of her tight and wet around him. He drank in the view before him: the parted lips, the flushed face, and most importantly, the wide eyes that were seeing for the first time in weeks.

Nesta leant over his body, her arms coming to frame his face as he caught her hips, guiding her to start riding him, her pelvis grinding into his in way that was so perfect he swore.

Cassian just caught the tempting sway of her breasts before her mouth slanted over his. It was not a desperate kiss but slow and passionate, as if she too was relieved that they were finally joined. 

“Are you going to make Azriel come?” Cassian asked her softly, when she finally drew away from him. He leant up to capture a nipple briefly in his mouth, lavishing it with attention, his teeth nipping softly over the peak in the way she liked. When Nesta circled her hips down onto him so he was pressing deep inside of her, he groaned and let go, his head falling back onto the mattress.

Winding his fingers into Nesta’s hair with one hand, he pulled her down for another searing kiss. “He’s been so good to you, hasn’t he?” he murmured, snapping his hips up into hers so that she let out a long whimper. “I think he deserves to finish.”

Still whimpering, Nesta nodded. And then, without a fuss, she raised herself back up onto her knees, allowing the shadowsinger to step closer.

Azriel came to stand on the mattress by Cassian’s right shoulder. His fist was moving furiously up and down his swollen member, in a way that told Cassian the shadowsinger had held off long enough.

The view was phenomenal. Cassian groaned as he watched Azriel guide his cock into Nesta’s mouth. It sparked Cassian into action. Gripping Nesta’s hips, he started to drive upwards, setting a punishing pace that he knew would result in Nesta being nothing but a mass of screaming, trembling limbs by the time he was finished.

With a slack jaw, Cassian watched Nesta’s head start to bob. Watched as Azriel’s control slipped and his hips thrust into her waiting mouth with a speed that told Cassian that it would not be long until he was spurting hot come.

A grunted groan fell from Azriel’s throat as Nesta whimpered rather than backed away. As she relaxed her throat so she could take more of him. It was the loudest sound the shadowsinger had made that evening and it made something spike inside Cassian’s blood. He brought his feet up so they were flat on the mattress, making use of his pelvic-floor and the new angle to slam relentlessly into Nesta’s body.

The noise of smacking skin was nothing on the cry that came from Nesta. She tore her mouth from Azriel to bury her head into the shadowsinger’s left hip, muffling the moans that told Cassian he had tapped into something vital. He felt Nesta’s body turn pliant, watched Azriel’s hands fall to grip Nesta side, keeping her upright.

“Already?” Azriel murmured disbelievingly to Nesta. It was rare for the shadowsinger to speak so much during sex, usually he remained dark and brooding and left Cassian to let his mouth run away from him. “Are you going to come again, so soon?”

A moaned affirmation and then a sharp cry as Cassian ground his hips up into Nesta’s.

“Will you make me come first?” Azriel asked gently, urging Nesta to look up at him with those cloudy blue eyes. His fist was erratically pounding at the base of his cock and he stifled a deep groan as he eased his erection back into Nesta’s mouth. His shadows were swirling fast around him now, betraying just how close he was to that pinnacle. How in moments, he would break.

Azriel’s scarred hands lightly cradled the back of Nesta’s head despite his other, frenzied movements, holding back the hair that had escaped from the plait that was now loose and messy.

A groan tore itself from Cassian’s throat as Nesta closed her lips and suckled at the engorged head of Azriel’s cock. The sound snapped into a pleased growl when she nodded furiously, staring up at the shadowsinger beneath thick eyelashes. “Good girl,” Azriel praised, briefly stilling his movements as he lightly touched his fingers to her cheek.

Then his hand was moving again, faster and faster, his shadows swirling and twisting around his limbs, throwing him in and out of shadow so frantically that Cassian nearly missed Azriel’s expression as it twisted with his impending release…

And then Azriel’s shadows were thrown outwards, casting the shadowsinger in nothing but light as he pulled out of Nesta’s mouth. The shadowsinger tugged urgently at Nesta’s hair, pulling her head back to expose the generous cleavage Azriel had been eyeing since Nesta had first taken off her camisole. It all happened just in time, and then the shadowsinger was coming, huge spurts streaming from the tip and onto Nesta’s breasts.

It was too much for Cassian - a boundary that shouldn’t have been crossed - a feral snarl unleashing itself from his chest a he watched Azriel claim his mate’s skin. His blood surged fiercely through his veins — chanting _mine, mine, mine_ — as he drove Nesta’s hips down to meet his again, circling them in the way that he knew made her body go slack and all of her focus fall to the pressure building in that bundle of nerves between her legs.

Cassian did not see Azriel shudder or the shadows that whispered back to the shadowsinger, sheathing his face in patches of dark. Did not see how Azriel bent down to cup Nesta’s wet breasts, to pull her nipples into his mouth in turn. Did not even see the shadowsinger blend completely into shadow as Cassian started to drive he and Nesta into simultaneous release.

All he cared about was the pursuit of that shared pleasure that would bind the two of them together. The pitch of Nesta’s wild, ragged moans as she met him thrust for thrust, circling her hips down onto his. The way she fell over his body to press her lips urgently to his, their tongues battling in a way that was too perfect, too much…

“Cassian,” Nesta breathed, and he knew from the way her voice trembled that this release was going to be more intense than the others. “ _Cassian_.”

Pleasure surged between them, that shared bond swelling, cracking Nesta’s ice. His light plummeted to meet hers just as that inky dark rushed towards him, and when the two forces met, Cassian knew he was a goner.

“Me too, sweetheart,” he gasped, throwing his top half upwards so he was seated. “Me too. _Fuck_ -”

His spare hand clapped against her ass, his fingers digging into the flesh as she rode him with abandon. Cassian just caught sight of Nesta’s glistening chest before she pressed her forehead to his, tangling her fingers into the snarled strands of his hair as if they were her reigns.

And then everything seized, his balls tightening in a way that was almost painful. He let out a hoarse yell, the sound mingling with Nesta’s sharp, vulnerable cry as blessed relief flooded through every nerve ending. His cock throbbed, the pleasure so intense the breath was knocked from him, and he could do nothing but allow Nesta to ride out her own release as he came inside of her in forceful spurts.

When they were nothing but a mass of intertwined limbs and heaving, gasping lungs, Cassian cupped a palm to the back of her head. Nesta had not broken eye contact with him since she had shattered, but now she squeezed her eyes shut as she took the time to recover.

“Ok?” Cassian rasped gently.

He laid them back onto the bed and rolled them so they were both on their side. He was still inside of her, but his cock was softening, slowly slipping out of her body.

Neither of them moved as his come ran down both of their legs.

Eventually, Cassian brought his left wing down to drape over Nesta like a blanket, shielding her from… he didn’t know what.

Something.

 _Anything_.

“Here.” Azriel appeared out of the shadows with a wet cloth in his hands, and Cassian begrudgingly retracted his wing as Nesta moved onto her back.

The shadowsinger was already dressed, having clearly picked up his clothing on the way to the bathroom. The top few buttons that were undone on his shirt were the only indication of what the three of them had just done.

When Nesta did not move, the shadowsinger quickly ran the cloth over her breasts and stomach, cleaning up the mess he had made. Then without a word, he handed it to Cassian. Even though Cassian was gentle, Nesta gasped as he wiped the cloth between her legs, her body shuddering with sensitivity, and she buried her face into the sheets to stifle the sound.

Cassian pressed a kiss to the wing bones of each hip in apology.

“I should head back.”

There was no remorse in the shadowsinger’s voice, but… that wariness was back. His movements even more measured than usual, as if he thought Cassian was unpredictable, ready to pounce and snarl at any given moment.

Cassian nodded. “Ok, I’ll see you here tomorrow.”

The shadowsinger briefly touched his hand to Nesta’s hair in goodbye, and before she could even contemplate lifting her head, he had folded into shadow.

“Sweetheart,” Cassian said softly, tracing a calloused thumb over high cheekbone. “Do you want me to move you to your bed?”

A small, immediate sound of disapproval reached Cassian’s ears as Nesta turned her face even further into the blanket.

“Come here then,” he murmured, his heart leaping against his ribcage as if it were trying to escape.

Gathering Nesta to his body, Cassian pulled her under the blankets with him. Surprise wound through him as she tucked herself up against him, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for them to be this close when they were not bedding the other. Her leg slipped between his, her face burying itself into the crook of his shoulder as she breathed him in, as if the scent of his skin brought her comfort.

Cassian brought his hand to wind into the hair at the base of her neck. Nesta’s loose braid was almost undone, and Cassian pulled the tie free from the ends. Slowly, he unravelled the remaining twists until her hair fell free, a golden brown sheen that ran through his fingers as he gently coaxed out the tangles.

Nesta made a sound that Cassian almost dissected as a purr, followed by a contented sigh into his neck, as if she were there to stay. But when he arched his wing over them, cocooning them in umber, she rolled her head back onto the pillow so she could survey them.

Everything went still inside of him as Nesta raised a curious hand, but he came to just in time, catching her wrist before her fingers brushed across the membrane.

He pressed his lips to her knuckles for a moment too long, watching her slight frown and the way she blinked blearily at him.

“Not yet,” he explained softly, but did not embellish further. Did not need to, as Nesta silently nestled back into his shoulder.

Weaving his fingers back into her hair, Cassian listened to the sound of her breathing until it became even.

Then, he lost her to darkness.

* * *

The trip to the Winter Court was only for three days but it felt like longer. Rather than making the most of the time with his friends, Cassian knew that his jovial mask did nothing to convince his nearest and dearest that he would rather be somewhere else entirely. Indeed, on multiple occasions, Cassian had fought the urge to beg Azriel to winnow him back to Illyria, just so he could check on Nesta.

His absence from her made his heart ache so terribly he felt as if he were in pain, and all he could think about was the way Nesta had still been asleep when he had left. How her fingers had unconsciously tightened around his arm as he had untangled his limbs from her.

He’d left her a note. Reminded her when he would be back.

As usual, he did not know where they stood or how she would react when he returned. But that same night, when midnight blue had began to bleed into the promise of dawn, Cassian had been woken to Nesta’s lips against his and her hand on his already hard cock. Even as sleep had clutched at him, he had rolled them so she was on her back, so he could stare into the stormy depths of her blue eyes which were still open rather than closed. When he had entered her, Nesta’s moan had been soft and satisfied, her hair traipsed across the pillow in a sheen of honey. She had been soaked, and Cassian had let out a long, low groan as pushed into the hilt, before rocking his hips lazily into hers until they both gasped and shattered.

Now, Cassian stared out from the frost-bitten balcony that surrounded the breakfast room at the Winter palace. The air was sharp enough to bite, but Cassian had forgone the roaring hearths to stare out at the view; the vast expanse of white that undulated for miles until it met the evergreen forest at its horizon.

Rhys had asked Azriel to leave early, to blend into shadows as the court’s spymaster and gather intelligence from the Illyrian camps, but Cassian heard the footsteps that were unmistakably Azriel’s as someone stepped out onto the balcony behind him.

They had not spoken about their union with Nesta. Their previous antics beneath the sheets had not been something they had ever discussed after they had taken place, but Cassian knew from the distance Azriel had been keeping from him ever since that this would not be like those other times.

Cassian did not turn as the shadowsinger stepped up to the wall of the stone balcony. It was wreathed in vines of ivy, the plant kissed with frost.

“Did you want to do it?”

Holding back a snort at the direct question, Cassian tracked the great, white polar bear which had padded out beneath the fur trees and tried not to think about the blinding pleasure that had whipped through him at his release, or the way that Nesta’s body had fit perfectly against his as they slept.

“Obviously,” Cassian drawled.

But Azriel steadied him with a look so searing Cassian finally had to meet the shadowsinger’s eyes.

“You’re mates,” Azriel announced.

A muscle feathered in Cassian’s jaw. “Yes.”

He’d never admitted aloud before, not even to himself.

But Azriel only dipped his chin at the confirmation. “I suspected, but when you initiated it all, I thought you couldn’t be, because there would be no way that you’d allow me to join you both otherwise.”

A harsh grunt sounded from Cassian’s throat. “You both wanted it. I wasn’t going to let you do it without me, was I?”

Azriel cocked his head at his brother. “You know I wouldn’t have done it without you. Nesta wouldn’t have done it without you.”

A pause. Then Azriel asked, “Does she know?”

A huff of misted breath. “You should have asked, _Does she care_?”

“She cares,” Azriel replied. “Her eyes have this hollow quality most of the time. But sometimes, when she looks at you, it’s as if you have woken her up.”

Cassian didn’t respond. Instead, he looked out at the view before him; at the velvet-antlered reindeer pulling carved sleighs across the snow and the way his breath curled in front of him like smoke.

“She’s good for you,” Azriel dared to continue. “She doesn’t let you pretend.”

Cassian knew what Azriel was doing. Giving his blessing for a relationship nobody else seemed to understand but which the shadowsinger had now been privy to. Cassian wondered what it had been like from Azriel’s point-of-view, glimpsing those moments between he and Nesta that were so raw and vulnerable rather than guarded or fiery.

Cassian’s mouth tightened into a thin line. “It was hard,” he admitted eventually. “Not to be overly territorial.”

Azriel let out a rare chuckle. He did not mention the times in which Cassian had snarled or the furious way in which he had pummelled into Nesta when Azriel had come. But that was how it always was between he and Azriel, the two Illyrian bastards who had bonded from an upbringing of loneliness and a deprivation of love. No judgement. Only silent understanding.

The shadowsinger’s lips were still turned up at the corners as he pushed away from the railing. “Who knew you were so restrained,” he quipped lightly, his chilled voice perfect in the brisk snowy weather of the Winter Court. “I’ll see you in a week.”

And then he bled into shadow.


End file.
